Poem by Henry Constable

To the Blessed Sacrament

WHEN thee (O holy sacrificed Lambe) 
In severed sygnes I whyte and liquide see, 
As on thy body slayne I thynke on thee, 
Which pale by sheddyng of thy bloode became. 
 
And when agayne I doe behold the same 
Vayled in whyte to be receav’d of mee,
Thou seemest in thy syndon wrapt to bee 
Lyke to a corse, whose monument I am. 
 
Buryed in me, vnto my sowle appeare, 
Pryson’d in earth, and bannisht from thy syght,
Lyke our forefathers who in lymbo were, 
Cleere thou my thoughtes, as thou did’st gyve them light, 
And as thou others freed from purgyng fyre 
Quenche in my hart the flames of badd desyre.

1. To the Marquess of Piscat's Soul
2. H.C. to the Gentleman Reader
3. Of the Nativity of the Lady Rich's Daughter
4. The Shepherd's Venus and Adonis
5. My Lady’s Presence Makes the Roses Red

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